


incapable of making alright decisions

by blankiehxrry



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Fingering, M/M, Rimming, Serial Killer Louis, Spanking, dom/sub dynamic, harry can take a cock plus two fingers hes gifted, i hate making tags, needy sex to be specific
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-09
Updated: 2014-03-09
Packaged: 2018-01-14 20:45:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1278313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blankiehxrry/pseuds/blankiehxrry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And okay, this is another red light because Louis does not under any circumstances tell anyone his name when he can feel the reassuring weight of a blade in his pocket.<br/>Especially not when the pale column of Harry’s throat is bobbing with each swallow of his drink.</p>
            </blockquote>





	incapable of making alright decisions

**Author's Note:**

> Wow! So this was totally out of the realm of what I usually write, but miss Ashley (@xfactorlarry) kindly asked me to write this for her birthday and I was so flattered that I thought I would give it a try! I'll preface this by saying that I myself am not a serial killer, so I apologize if I got any of the facts wrong? It's a bit hard to put yourself into that mindset when you have no inclination to kill anyone or have any idea of how to go about doing it, so here's a big thanks to google! Anyways, this is for Ashley; I hope you have an awesome birthday babe and i hope this is close to being what you wanted!

The bass of the heavy music pounds thickly into the club. Louis surveys the dance floor and sees both boys and girls dancing, their movements jerky and blurred in the haze of the strobe light. He eyes one boy in particular – sandy blonde and tall – and hesitates only a moment before confidently weaving his way through the crowd, boldly settling his hands on the boy’s slim hips.

 

The boy starts a bit, eyes flicking to Louis before smiling and leaning back into the touch.

Around them bodies grind and sway; Louis always finds a laugh in the fact that so many people can be so oblivious as to what’s happening around them. It makes Louis’ part much easier. Alcohol also helps.

 

They don’t speak words, instead choosing to communicate with the soft fiction of denim and small whimpers barely heard above the music. When Louis’ had enough, he taps on the boys’ hip twice to get his attention. He grabs his wrist and gently leads him out the door and across the road where his car is parked. Eagerly, the boy opens the back door and pulls Louis in after him. They fall onto each other, limbs tangled until Louis isn’t sure where he begins and the boy ends.

 

Drunk and giggling, the boy pulls Louis down in for a lingering kiss, licking hot into his mouth and reaching the hand that isn’t cupping his jaw to grope at his bum. Louis suppresses a groan and plays along, maneuvering himself so that he’s balancing on his knees.

 

The kiss grows messier as the windows fog up and by the time the boy is reaching for Louis’ belt to unbuckle it and reach into his pants, Louis is already one step ahead and pulling out the knife. And that’s the end of that.

 

-

 

In Louis’ mind, it wasn’t really a thing until it became a thing. Not long after his mum and dad died, he’d taken to roaming the dark streets almost every night until sweaty bodies were spilling out of clubs and cabs were weaving through the damp roads to take home drunk couples. He was eighteen when it happened and the inheritance he received was enough for him to afford a small flat above a bakery in the heart of London.

 

It took him about three months to work up the courage to go inside one of the clubs, but once he’d tasted the salty rims of shot glasses and the lips of another boy, there was no going back to the silent city streets. Additionally, it took six more visits and a dozen glasses of hard liquor until he deemed himself drunk enough to murder another human being without feeling any ounce of regret.

 

It wasn’t even that he went to the club that night planning on leaving with one less survivor, but while he’d had his lips attached to a boy’s neck in the grimy privacy of a bathroom stall his free hand had been fiddling with the blade of the pocket knife in his jeans and it’d pretty much escalated from there. He liked to alternate his choice of a blade, but primarily it had always been his switchblade that he could easily conceal in his pocket. Ironically, his father had given it to him.  

 

It’s an interesting concept, murder. Louis had always found it fascinating. He liked to watch reruns of crime shows late at night; he was always more interested in the murder rather than the string of detectives who were trying to capture the criminal. The most interesting murders were the gory ones; bodies that hung from ceilings and dripped patterns of blood onto the floor, skin that was butchered from the quick slices of a rusty blade.

 

Louis couldn’t afford those kind of theatrics though. He stuck to a simple method, in and out in an instant. The idea of being caught was more thrilling than taking the time to drag a body to some barn in the middle of nowhere. Besides, that’s how most murderers got caught anyway. And Louis wasn’t quite ready for that.

 

About a week after he’d had to scrub the interior of his car to free it from all traces of blood, Louis decided to hit up a new club just down the street from the one he had come to frequent. Most shocking of all, Louis found he could get away with several murders in one place before having to move on to the next. He was messing around on a seedy side of town, so finding a few young adults dead inside of a club that was probably involved in some illegal activities itself was practically a common occurrence. Louis just happened to be taking advantage of that.

 

On this particular night, Louis walks into the club and heads straight to the bar. Some nights the tremors in his hands are worse than others so he has to have a few drinks to take off the edge. It isn’t from worry or nerves, no. It’s from anticipation. It happens most often when Louis has taken too long of a break in between murders. He has too much energy pent up inside of himself, waiting to be released in the form of the strike of a blade.

 

Situating himself comfortably on a barstool, Louis orders three shots of some sort of blue liquid that looks like it will have the right effect on his addled brain. Next to him, a boy sits down and waves the bartender over, politely asking for a Sex on the Beach. He clasps his hands in front of him while he waits, long spindly fingers weaving between each other and _yes,_ Louis thinks, _he’ll do just fine._

 

“Isn’t that drink a bit girly?” The boy startles, looking over at Louis, a frown creasing his eyebrows.

 

“’S yummy,” he argues, slow drawl making his voice sound like melting butter.

 

“A Shirley Temple is yummy, a Sex on the Beach is girly,” Louis grins. The boy huffs and half-heartedly sticks his tongue out.

 

“Sometimes it’s nice to be a bit girly,” he argues. Louis rolls his eyes good-naturedly.

 

“Sure, alright,” Louis pauses until the boy catches on and fills in, “Harry.”

 

“Alright Harry,” Louis tries again, smiling as the bartender places Harry’s drink in front of him. It’s a bright shade of pink with a small umbrella sticking out the top. Louis doesn’t say anything, just cocks his eyebrow at Harry.

 

“Oh sod off,” Harry groans, plucking the umbrella out of the drink and tucking it above his ear. He grins dopily at Louis.

 

Harry’s almost angelic, Louis thinks, with his curly hair in a halo of tangles on his head and curious green eyes. When he smiles he has deep dimples etched onto either cheek, making him look much younger than he probably is. His pale skin is just the type that would look beautiful smeared and dripping with red. Unconsciously, Harry’s tongue pokes out and licks around his mouth and he looks _absolutely edible._

 

“So, how could someone so pretty end up here all alone?” Louis has always prided himself in being able to scope out the best ways to win over his victims. With Harry, he figures simple flattery will do the trick, especially if he’s on his way to being drunk.

 

“I could ask you the same thing.” He’s trying to act nonchalant, Louis can tell, but the blush coloring Harry’s cheeks gives away his nervousness.

 

“So he’s cute _and_ polite,” Louis muses. He reaches out a hand to delicately pinch one of Harry’s dimples. He absolutely beams under the attention.

 

“What’s your name again?” Harry picks up his glass and takes a lazy sip, pillow lips closing over the straw and suckling gently.

 

And okay, this is another red light because Louis _does not_ under any circumstances tell anyone his name when he can feel the reassuring weight of a blade in his pocket.

Especially not when the pale column of Harry’s throat is bobbing with each swallow of his drink.

 

“You can call me Lou,” he whispers. Louis casually lets his hand drift down to rest on Harry’s thigh. Harry tenses for a moment before gushing again.

 

“Lou,” Harry says, testing the weight of it on his tongue. He seems satisfied as he smiles and leans closer into Louis’ touch. “You’re pretty cute, Lou.”

 

“Yeah?” Louis keeps his gazed fixed solely on Harry’s mouth, the perfect bow of his lips and the teeth marks etched into the pink of the skin. He imagines what they would look like if his body were to lay cold and lifeless on the white sheets of his bed.

 

“I wouldn’t lie,” Harry says earnestly. He leans in to take another sip of his drink but Louis stops him with a hand.

 

“I kind of want to kiss you,” Louis says, surprising both himself and Harry. He’s forward, sure; bold, always; but Louis is rarely flirtatious.

 

“You know we met like five minutes ago, right?” Harry laughs but he puts down his drink and turns so that his whole body is facing Louis.

 

“Does that mean you’re going to stop me?” Louis shifts until his bum is resting on the edge of his chair, so that his mouth is inches away from Harry. “You gonna push me away if I try?”

 

Harry swallows thickly and slowly meets Louis’ eyes. They stare silently for a few seconds before Harry shakes his head. _No._

Louis leans in quickly to steal the kiss while he still has permission. Harry whines quietly against his lips and scoots until he’s practically sitting in Louis’ lap. He wraps his arms around Louis’ neck and arches into the kiss. Louis swipes his tongue over Harry’s warm bottom lip until it parts and grants him entrance.

 

They kiss like that for a few minutes until the bartender wraps his knuckles against the wooden countertop and gives them the ultimatum to pay for more drinks or leave.

 

“Erm,” Harry starts, eyes trained on the ground. “Do you wanna maybe come back to mine?”

 

Louis takes his time considering his options. He’s not a big fan of killing in the victim’s house because it looks more suspicious when he’s leaving in the dead of night. There’s more room for error and he’s all about being careful and clean, but something about Harry makes him want to say yes.

 

“Lead the way,” Louis says quietly. Harry breaks out into a bright grin and jumps up from his chair, grabs Louis’ hand and starts leading them out of the club. He’s very obviously drunk, keeps giggling as they push past a mass of bodies on their way to the front door.

 

Once they make it outside, Louis hails a cab while Harry stuffs his face into Louis’ neck and laughs. Louis’ hands are still shaking at this point, twitching and trembling where they’re gripping lightly at Harry’s waist. He has to make a conscious effort not to squeeze until he can see dark purple bruises splattering across his pale chubby skin.

 

They hop into the next cab that pulls up to the curb, piling in on top of each other and Louis has to shake Harry a bit until he sputters out his address in between bursts of laughter. He crawls forward until he’s straddling Louis’ lap, leans down to brush light kisses across the bridge of his nose and around his cheeks.

 

“You’re really drunk,” Louis whispers into Harry’s lips. He’s not normally such a soft spot for anyone he’s planning on killing but he feels a sharp pang of protectiveness towards Harry. He groans when Harry shifts on his lap to tuck his head between Louis’ shoulder and his neck.

 

“’M not that drunk,” Harry whispers back. “I’m just really horny.”

 

“Being horny makes you giggle?” Louis coaxes Harry’s head up so that they’re looking at each other.

 

“Maybe,” Harry singsongs. He gives Louis a coy smile before rolling his hips forward, this time with purpose. “You’re just really cute.”

 

“You said that already,” Louis points out. He’s trying to maintain his calm; he hates being out of control and this situation seems to be flying out of his grasp at a rapid pace.

 

“Yeah but you didn’t believe me earlier, did you?” A curl falls forward into Harry’s eyes and he shakes it out impatiently.

 

Louis’ about to respond when the cab stops suddenly outside a tall building. Harry recovers enough to throw the driver some bills, insisting that he pay because “I was the one to invite you over Lou.” They head into the building and travel up four floors before they reach Harry’s flat. He unlocks it quickly and flicks on the lights as they walk inside.

 

Once he’s pressed the door shut and locked it, Harry turns around with a shy look on his face. “I’ve never really done this before, so like, I don’t know where to begin,” he admits quietly, scuffing the toe of his shoe against the floor.

 

Overcome by a sudden rush of adoration, Louis strides forward, taking Harry’s face in both their hands and smashing their lips together. Harry makes a muffled noise of surprise before kissing back eagerly and making soft sighs between each kiss.

 

Louis breaks it off quickly but keeps their foreheads pressed together. “It’s okay,” he whispers quietly. _Whatever this is, I’ve never done it either,_ he thinks.

 

Apparently satisfied, Harry smiles gratefully and moves forward to press his lips lightly to Louis’, parting his lips, hungry for more.

 

Louis starts walking them backwards towards a hallway where he assumes the bedroom will be. Harry makes no effort to show him the way, instead just clings on tightly to Louis’ biceps and sucks his lower lip between his own teeth.

 

They stumble a bit on their way to the bed, but Louis managers to maneuver them so that he’s pushing Harry onto his back on top of the mattress and leaning over him. Almost immediately, Harry wraps his legs around Louis’ waist and pulls him in closer, searching for delicious friction.

 

Louis delivers it to him in the form of slipping a thigh between his legs and grinding down, enough so that Harry’s moaning into the empty space of the room. For leverage, Louis grabs onto tufts of Harry’s hair and pulls at the same time he ruts down, and Harry practically mewls at that, arching into his touch like a cat.

 

“’S that a thing then?” Louis grits out. Harry’s thigh feels amazing on his cock through the layers of denim. He gives another experimental tug on Harry’s hair and the boy cries out in pleasure, eyes fluttering closed.

 

“Mm, _yes,”_ Harry manages to get out around his moans. “Not too much though or I’ll come,” he mumbles sheepishly.

 

“Anything else that gets you hot and bothered?” Louis’ half joking but it takes only a second before Harry’s whispering out, “dirty talk.”

 

He’s not one to get too involved with his victims but Harry’s making him break all the regular protocol apparently because it doesn’t take much to jump in with, “gonna turn you over and rim you now, gonna lick you out so you’re nice and ready for me.”

 

“ _Fuck yeah,_ ” Harry chants. Louis rolls him over and helps him shimmy out of his jeans and underwear. His bum is so perky and pale compared to the rest of his body and he takes the time to lean down and kiss it gently.

 

“ _Please,_ ” Harry whines suddenly. “Need your tongue right now, please Lou.”

 

And how can Louis say no to someone who asks so nicely?

 

Slowly, he spreads apart Harry’s cheeks and sighs happily when he sees his tiny hole, pink and puckered like it’s waiting for his tongue. He wastes no time in diving in, lapping around the edges before poking into it with the edge of his tongue.

 

“Shit, please Lou, _moremoremore_ ,” Harry cries into the sheets. His noises are muffled but the sentiment still remains and Louis wets one finger before allowing it to join his mouth. He slips it in up to the first knuckle carefully before drawing back and out and plunging in.

 

Harry’s begun to rut against the sheets at this point, moaning into the skin of his bicep and clenching around Louis’ fingers in a way that makes him have to reach down and palm himself to relieve some of the pressure.

 

He uses the shallow thrusts of his finger to stretch Harry more until he can take a second, then a third. All the while he keeps sweeping his tongue around the rim, nipping at the sensitive skin until Harry sounds like he’s actually crying.

 

“So fucking tight, like a virgin,” Louis remarks in awe. Harry’s mumbling something incoherent and Louis squeezes his hip to get his attention. “What was that?”

 

“Wanna be a good boy,” Harry cries. “ _Please.”_

“Then you’re gonna have to earn that, aren’t you?” Louis takes his fingers out and licks one more time around Harry’s stretched hole before sitting back on his knees.

 

“Lube?” He asks and Harry manages to raise a hand and point to the nightstand. Louis finds it in the top drawer and squeezes out a few drops to slick up his aching cock.

 

“Lou,” Harry whines impatiently. “Please, need you.”

 

“Tell me what it is that you need.” Louis holds the base of his cock to stop from coming just at how desperate Harry is to be stuffed.

 

Instead of using his words, Harry just rolls onto his side and lifts one leg, turning his head back and looking at Louis like he’s trying to convey a message. Understanding, Louis shifts so that he’s lying behind Harry and slips one leg in between his, the perfect angle so that the head of his cock is lying right next to Harry’s bum.

 

With a quick kiss to the side of Harry’s cheek, Louis slides in to his tight hole, groaning once he’s fully inside. The friction is already amazing and he has to physically stop himself from pounding into Harry until he’s screaming from the pain and begging Louis’ to stop.

 

“”M ready,” Harry says breathlessly. Louis sighs in relief and starts to in and out at a steady pace. With each thrust Harry’s body rolls farther over so that he’s practically on his stomach again, rocking against the sheets and trapping his cock between his soft tummy and the cotton.

 

“Love it don’t you?” Louis manages to get out between thrusts. “Love being full of my cock?”

 

Harry doesn’t respond, just moans even louder as a signal that he’s even aware of what Louis’ saying. His breathing has become even heavier, he’s mouthing at the soft skin of his inner arm. Louis watches as he experimentally bites down and trembles as if he likes it. _Interesting._

Louis tries giving his bum a few spanks for good measure and in response, Harry reaches up to his chest and pinches on nipple between his fingers, rolling and tugging at the sensitive bud as he whines high in his throat. Addicted to the sharp sound of his hand against Harry’s ass, Louis keeps giving light spanks, watching as the skin turns a tender shade of pink to match the flush on Harry’s face.

“Fuck, Harry, ‘m gonna come,” Louis’ hips are rabbiting now, erratic as he chases after his orgasm. Harry just lays there and takes it, whining a constant stream of _pleasepleaseplease._

Roughly, Louis grabs handfuls of Harry’s ass and kneads it between his fingers. He pulls the cheeks farther apart and using his index finger to reach down and slide in next to where his cock is disappearing into Harry’s hole.

 

Harry starts sobbing at that, writhing on the bed and trying to simultaneously push back into Louis and grind down on the sheets. Louis can tell he’s close, so he pants out a heavy breath and slides in a second finger.

 

As soon as he manages to fit both fingers alongside his cock so that Harry’s hole has turned red and is absolutely wrecked, Harry goes taut under Louis and moans so loud as he comes that Louis has to reach a hand out to cover his mouth for fear the neighbors will think something’s gone wrong.

 

While Harry lies there motionless and sated, it takes Louis _one, two, three_ more thrusts until he’s pulling out and coming all over Harry’s back and bum cheeks. He reaches out a hand out on Harry’s shoulder to steady himself as he strokes himself through his orgasm.

 

As soon as he’s stopped shaking, Louis falls down to lie beside Harry, both of them breathing heavily.

 

“Fuck,” Harry sighs. He sounds sleepy and content. “That was amazing.”

 

“Yeah.” Louis hopes that Harry doesn’t hear how his voice shakes. In his haste to fuck Harry senseless, he’d forgotten to even take the switchblade out of his pocket before undressing.

 

They face each other for a minute and Louis is suddenly certain that Harry can see right through him, knows why he’s here and what he’s planning. He’s got this curious look on his face, head cocked and eyes soft.

 

“Uh, why don’t you stay here and I’ll be right back?” Harry nods to himself, doesn’t wait for Louis to respond, and walks on unsteady feet out of the room.

 

Louis flounders for a minute before practically falling out of bed and jogging down the hallway until he finds the bathroom. He shuts himself inside and braces his arms over the sink. He can’t look in the mirror so he stares at the way his fingers are quivering against the white porcelain. This night is not going how he planned and for the first time he’s questioning why he would even want to kill Harry in the first place.

 

He glances around the bathroom and sees a damp towel hung over the shower rod, a ratty t-shirt thrown on top of the hamper, a tube of toothpaste without the cap, a picture of a beach hung above the toilet. Harry is a living, breathing, human being with a life and a history and to end his life would be to end the lives of the family and friends that would spiral into grief if he died. If Louis was too much of a wimp to pull out his blade and kill him earlier, how was he ever going to be able to do it now?

 

Louis huffs out a shaky breath and wets his face with some water from the sink. After using a hand towel to pat himself dry, he opens the bathroom door and heads back down the hall to where he finds Harry in the kitchen. Louis knows he needs to leave, that even for a regular one-night stand he’s overstayed his welcome. He doesn’t have an idea of what he’s going to say but he walks into the kitchen where Harry looks like he was just about to walk out.

 

Standing in the dull light of the kitchen, two mugs clutched in his hands, Harry looks very small and Louis’ hands are itching.

 

“What’s that then?” Louis gestures to the mug and Harry flushes bright red.

 

“I erm, though you might want to chat a bit? We don’t have to really, I just figured there was no rush to – you know,” Harry trails off helplessly, lightly shrugging his shoulders.

 

“C’mere,” Louis sighs gently. He steps forward and plucks one of the mugs out of Harry’s hands and tangles their free hands together to lead them back into the bedroom.

 

Harry eagerly hops back in bed and he looks so young like that, tangled up in the soft sheets with his hair sticking in every direction. His eyes are bright and hopeful as Louis slides in on the other side and snuggles down deeper into the covers to where he can meet Harry’s gaze.

 

“I know that these things are, like, usually over after one night,” Harry begins slowly. Louis’ heart starts beating faster and his hands grips tighter to the sheets. “But you seem so nice and I just, like, could I ask you out on a date? Am I allowed to do that?”

 

Louis is so overcome with how cute and nervous Harry is being that for a second he almost slips and lets himself believe that it could be that easy.

 

“I don’t know,” Louis whispers. “I’m not really your best option. I’ve done a lot of fucked up things Harry.”

_In for a penny, in for a pound._

“Hasn’t everyone though? You’ve been nice to me all night, I think I could handle it.” Harry burrows closer into Louis’ side and laces their fingers together over the covers.

 

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” Louis mumbles. His walls are crumbling, he can see flashing lights behind his eyelids.

 

“Why does it have to be so hard? I think you’re cute, that’s all there is to it.” There, between the pillow and the sheets tucked tight around their bodies, Louis can see a dimple threatening to burst.

 

“You’ve said that already,” Louis manages to grin back.

 

“And I’ll keep saying it until you believe me.” Harry squeezes his hand and that’s when Louis notices that his fingers have stopped shaking.

 

**Author's Note:**

> [find me on twitter](https://twitter.com/theofficeharry)


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